The Bearly Controlled Grizzly

That first time I saw her—my mate—I’d been ready to kick some guy’s ass for even looking at her. I made no apologies for my possessive, territorial side. I was a grizzly bear shifter, after all. It was my nature to be over the top.


Bethany hadn’t known what to do at first—being mated to a shifter—one who was grouchy and burly and made no apologies for how rugged he really was. 
But she wanted me, my sweet little human mate who could have brought a beast like me to my knees with just a look.
I’d wanted nothing more than to throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my lair like a caveman.

But I let her take the lead, even if my bear wasn’t happy, even if the alpha in me wanted to have my way with her right then and there.
And I would have my way with her. All the ways that counted, in fact.

I’d claim her, mark her, and before it was all said and done, there’d be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Bethany was owned by a grizzly.